My Visit to Khorfulus

Picture 1: Khorfulus School - currently constructing they're a food store, pit latrine, a new classroom and verandas.

Picture 2: The Diocesan Boat

Picture 3: The Sobat River

Dear All,
We had aimed to start early to get the boat loaded for the visit to Khor Fulus, the second school of Malakal Diocese. The mud however is here with a vengeance still following the heavy rains of last Sunday, which according to the news reports were the most torrential in years.

The porter, a small man struggled to bring the horse and cart as close to the materials as possible but feared that once stuck in the mud the cart would be lost until it dries (maybe two months from now). So he became the cart, and carried the cement, iron and welding equipment to the road where the horse stood safe. This took three hours and was but only a small element of the days journey. Once cargo was safely at the water edge the process of loading the boat began, quicker by far but as a large generator had now joined the multitude of items to be carried to Khor Fulus it was not without incident.

However by 12.30 once boat driver was found and wounds of the injured (casualties of the ten man triumph which lifted the generator into the boat) were bandaged we set off. The boat is Malakal made, which means that it is welded of iron and looks improbably heavy for its size, but it began to carry us down river along the Nile to the junction of the Sobot were we bear East. The river was swollen with the rains of Ethiopia and the lands of Southern Sudan but it remained calm and the sun shone hard.

After over an hour, and almost half way through the journey a strange towering crane can be seen on the sky line, with steel framed structures bare beside. It looks from a distance as if a business district is being begun in the most unlikely of places. As we come closer and it becomes clear what a first sight seems modern and incongruous on the landscape has been here for some time. We pass the village of which no name is clear but has grown itself around and within the remnants of what was the end point (or start point) of the dream of a Jonglei Canal. The canal original envisaged to by pass the to the East the massive swap known merely as The Sud was never finished. All that remains are broken machinery helpfully left to prove the foundation of a community which now live within and around the strange steel beasts of progress tamed and lying dormant at the water edge. They mess seamlessly together as if bound from birth.

This point also marks the beginning of the chicane of fishing nest which criss cross the river, lain by waiting fishermen. The nets prove almost completely concealed by the water but for the strange regularity of floating sticks which hold them up. Progress becomes slow yet the switch from the great Nile to the smaller Sobot brings with it a thronging waterside almost no part of which is now not owned by virtue of a mud hut being placed near by.

This mass of people that has descended or appeared on this stretch of water is thanks mostly to the founding of Khor Fulus. Khor Fulus was in history not known as a place in itself but merely a crossing point for those going South to Bor. However the war has made it a place of significance and now due to its designation as a congregation point for soldiers of the SPLA (Sudan Peoples Liberation Army) it thrives. As with all boom, without order it goes bust and for most of this year it has suffered continued upheaval as the army is reordered and brought under control. In January almost the whole community was set in flight by the rampage of discordant militia at odds with the Police and not controlled by the army which is supposed to be responsible for them.

Thankfully now life is returning so some sense of normality and as we docked at the Episcopal Church compound the school was massed with children singing and drumming. At first I thought it must have been an elaborate welcome but no, my ego was put back in place they didn't even know we were coming as no phones work in the area and our trip was out of the blue. Once the excitement of our groups presence had been quelled and we left to inspect the new classrooms and latrines the group returned to itself and the games began. They had come on Saturday, as had the teachers simply to sing, dance and play games. On Sunday they all return again to Church. Everyday, the school - which when I last visited over a year ago was being used as a hospital to treat cholera suffers- sits right at the centre of these children's lives at the heart of the community, giving education and hope.

The time was already after 4 and although I had only been in Khor Fulus an hour we needed to start for Malakal if we were to make it before dark. So rather than await the hired boat that was being unloaded and could take along time the Diocesan boat was called forth. This was the same boat and driver with whom almost exactly a year ago I was stranded for three days up river and once the boat had finally given up i'd had to walk the final 5 miles back to Malakal. I was apprehensive to say the least to re-enter the boat I had vowed while floating in the dark away from home that I would not re-enter if I escaped safe. yet the options were none and the day was drawing on, not to mention the thunder clouds were drawing in, so we set off.

The rain came but thankfully just had the driver had learnt (how to use a boat)from that previous first voyage we took together so had I and remembered a rain coat. We arrived untroubled in Malakal as the sun set low in the west gilding the clouds erupted after the rain. As the final light took flight I walked angle deep in mud broken sandals in hand to the house thankful to be back in a day and blessed to have seen what I saw.

Blessings

Simon